


Memory

by T_Mina



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: Discovery, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Interspecies Relationship(s), Navigating an Interspecies Relationship, Sarek tries to be understanding, Teacher!Amanda, Third Person POV, Vignette, vulcan headcanons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:33:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23570119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/T_Mina/pseuds/T_Mina
Summary: While giving Sarek a tour of where she works, Amanda observes one way in which Vulcans and Humans are very different.
Relationships: Amanda Grayson/Sarek
Comments: 15
Kudos: 95





	Memory

**Author's Note:**

> It’s popular fanon that Amanda worked on the Universal Translator, but it’s not actually canon and that timeline contradicts with ENT (which shows early versions of the UT as early as 2151) so I prefer to take Spock’s word that Amanda was a “teacher” to mean, like a pretty traditional school teacher of little kids. If that’s not for you… eh, this might not be your fic.

Sarek and Amanda sat together in the back of a classroom. Amanda was just observing today, rather than teaching herself. And so, after pulling a few strings with the school district she’d gotten her new, Vulcan boyfriend a visitor’s pass, and had brought him along.

She figured it was only fair. She had already seen Sarek in his element—negotiating treaties, and dining with diplomats at staid, formal events. So she thought it was time that he saw her in hers. Teaching human children in a brightly colored, very disorderly, second-grade classroom.

But as she sat beside him, she wondered if she’d made the wrong choice. She could already tell that the environment was a little overwhelming for him. Sarek sat very stiffly in his chair next to hers. And his lips were pressed into a harder line than usual.

They were not obvious signs of discomfort in a Vulcan. They had a tendency to be stiff in general. But Amanda knew her boyfriend well enough, now, that she could see it for what it was.

And she understood. She really did.

The classroom in front of them was visually over-stimulating, even for her. Everything from the tables to the chairs to the ceiling seemed to be painted in lurid, primary colors. The room was packed with toys and books and craft supplies, all stacked, seemingly at random. And the walls were just as bad, cluttered with stenciled letters of the alphabet, posters of the Federation presidents, and paper-mâché student art-projects.

There were all sorts of smells, too. The earthy smell of crayons. The plastic scent of acrylic paint. So many salty and sugary snacks. Rubber erasers. Wooden blocks. Play-Do. Chalk. Construction paper. 

And probably most difficult to manage, with his heightened Vulcan senses, the classroom was very _loud._ All thirty-three of the children in this class were running around in a circle in the center of the room, holding hands. While their feet thundered over the floor, a jingly, happy song roared over the room’s speakers. And at slightly different, and all incorrect pitches, the students attempted to sing along.

“We can go if you’d like,” Amanda offered almost immediately after they’d settled in.

But Sarek, surprising her, had shaken his head. “It would hardly be logical to depart when we have only just arrived. Besides, I am curious to understand how humans learn. That _is_ what we are seeing, is it not?”

He sounded quite skeptical of the idea. And Amanda chuckled at that.

“Yes, Sarek. This is how human children learn,” she said, gesturing towards the frolicking little kids as they stomped around the room and belted out educational lyrics. “ _Loudly._ With songs and games.”

“Yes, I can see that,” Sarek noted, his lips tightening. “However, I do not understand this teaching method. What place do songs and games have in learning scientific principles?”

“Well, I don’t know if this would have helped _you_ as a child,” Amanda began, trying not to laugh at the idea of a mini-Sarek, with a severe face, pacing in an exact circle while singing the silly words to the song they were listening to with perfect pitch. “But studies show that humans retain information better when they’ve got powerful emotions associated with it. And games are _fun_ , so they’re really effective.”

“Human emotion _aids_ with memory?” Sarek repeated.

He almost sounded like he was used to the opposite being true. And with a start, Amanda realized she might not be too far off.

She considered Sarek’s warnings about a time they might face together later in their relationship. A time when all logic would be stripped away from him. A time which, in the best of circumstances, he still might only foggily remember.

 _Was that what happened to Vulcans when they got too emotional?_ Amanda wondered. _Did they regress so far into animal-brain that even their memory—a memory that was usually better than human memory—became compromised?_

If that was true, it made automatic sense why Vulcans would think emotions were a bad idea in a learning environment. But humans weren’t like that. Human emotion was _strong_ , sure. But not quite as primal and overpowering as Amanda was beginning to suspect it was in Vulcans.

She thought about trying to explain this to Sarek. But she wasn’t sure she could pull it off without accidentally accusing Sarek of being emotional—something he took great offense to. So she settled for a simpler explanation.

“Humans and Vulcans are different.”

Sarek nodded. “I know this, as one who has worked closely with humans for years. And yet, somehow, this truth still manages to manifest in new and unexpected ways.”

“I bet it’s extra weird because we look so similar,” Amanda supplied.

“It is easy to ascribe our own characteristics to those who are similar in appearance,” Sarek agreed. “I find I must constantly remind myself not to hold humans to Vulcan standards. The temptation to do so is… strong.”

Amanda smiled. “And so is the human temptation to judge Vulcans based on human standards.”

“Indeed,” Sarek agreed. “But you did not answer my earlier question. What is the purpose of these songs and games? Are they simply to induce emotions?”

“Humans remember better when strong emotions are involved, but they are also really good at memorizing song lyrics,” Amanda explained. “So, why not exploit that? Trick our brains into memorizing the periodic table to a jaunty tune instead?”

“Ah, so humans must use these unusual techniques in order to compensate for their lack of eidetic memories,” Sarek concluded. “Intriguing. I shall have to study this further.”

“Really?” Amanda remarked, surprised. “You don’t think it’s stupid? Or illogical, or whatever?”

“No.”

Amanda narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

Sarek looked for a moment like he wanted to sigh. But Vulcans did not sigh. So instead, he simply launched directly into his explanation.

“Because I do not face the same challenges humans do with memory, it was not immediately obvious to me why these activities were relevant to the topics being taught. And I assumed, at first, they must be as you said. Fanciful. Illogical. But since you gave me a basic understanding of their purpose, I am interested to learn more. I do not wish to remain ignorant about how the human mind operates. Especially when, as an ambassador to Earth, I am subjected to its scrutiny so often.”

Amanda smiled. “Now _that_ sounds like you.”

Sarek turned his attention back toward the noisy classroom then. And Amanda counted herself very lucky. Sarek was a lot more understanding of human culture than most people expected a Vulcan could be. And it was for that reason that Amanda thought maybe, just _maybe_ , this little thing between them, as unprecedented and _crazy_ as it seemed to everyone else, might just work. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me about Star Trek on my tumblr: https://sporkandpringles.tumblr.com/


End file.
